


Black Moon

by ouzell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Remus Lupin, Black Family (Harry Potter) - Freeform, Flashbacks, Gay Regulus Black, Good Regulus Black, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Regulus Black, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Regulus Black Lives, Regulus as the Potions Master, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouzell/pseuds/ouzell
Summary: Regulus escapes the cave, but is thrown straight into a whirlwind of danger, romance, grading, and espionage.Based on a tumblr post by professorsparklepants:(https://www.google.com/amp/nonasuch.tumblr.com/post/174734188315/professorsparklepants-chucktaylorupset/amp)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you with limited Regulus knowledge: this begins in the cave Lord Voldemort hid his Horcrux in. Regulus died to switch it out for a fake version of the locket in the original plot line.

   It hadn’t been Regulus’ intention to become a spy, but looking back, he hadn’t had any other choice.

 

   After ordering Kreacher to leave with the newly discovered Horcrux, all hope seemed to have been lost. Maybe that was what prompted Regulus to finally lurch toward the waterside- that he knew there was no point. An unholy silence seemed to ring from the cavern walls, leaving his breathing and clumsy footsteps to echo off of them mockingly. And the thirst… it had been so unbearable he couldn’t even think straight. Were he able to he might’ve thought about something else- his family, how he’d spent his life, Voldemort, even his professors- but all that preoccupied his mind was finding something, anything to help his painfully dry throat. Regulus scrambled down, cupped a cold, marble white hand and tried to lift water to his lips. Not a drop reached them.

  Something stirred in the shadows all around him; very subtly at first, and then very loudly, as if a large sea serpent were thrashing about just out of his sight. A vague, unsettling fear hung over him then as he peered out, half dead and weak. There was no reason to, for even if he could see he was far too weak to even hold his wand properly, but he gazed out at the invisible monster nevertheless. 

   The events that followed unfolded so quickly that his dehydrated mind could hardly keep up. A skeletal black hand shot up from the water- he mistook it for a snake- to grip him with incredible speed and then, all darkness.

   The next thing he knew, he found himself being tucked into a hospital wing bed as if he were a student again. Everything was heavy with some kind of sickly weight, and his throat felt thick. Upon noticing he’d opened his eyes, Madam Pomfrey simply raised her eyebrows knowingly and left- leaving Regulus alone with Professor Dumbledore. Apparently the headmaster had been waiting for some time, for beside the old wizard’s feet lay a handful of crafting magazines and some knitting. He spoke after a prompt pause.

   “Hello again, Regulus. Fizzing whizbee?”

 

   Dumbledore went on to explain that Kreacher had returned to Regulus as quickly as he could, immediately cracking them back to Grimmauld Place and his absolutely hysterical mother. His secret was safe from Walburga of course, who had taken the liberty of assuming his loyalty had nothing to do with the matter, but Kreacher, knowing the truth, understood that Hogwarts was the only safe location for his recovery. “You're looking quite well after the state you were in.” Dumbledore smiled and hooked yarn over one of his needles again. He’d taken up his knitting over the duration of his ramble. “Madame Pomfrey worked with the skill of a witch ten times her age, if I do say so myself.”

   That was all well and good, but his questions had not all been answered. “And Kreacher?” He would have liked to thank the house elf for saving his life of course, but also feared his safety after their shared peril.

   “Your friend refused to leave your side until you stopped raving in your sleep. He’s recovered remarkably as well.” At this point he gave another amused smile. “We offered him a place at Hogwarts, but he wouldn’t hear of it.” The knitting and assorted magazines began being gathered up. His wise blue eyes finally settled upon Regulus once again. “I hope you won’t say the same.”


	2. Chapter 2

   There were a few weeks of ‘rest’ before Regulus left the hospital wing, but that was hardly what he would’ve called it. After drinking that emerald potion, there wasn’t a night he didn’t spend shaken to his core by fear.

   While it was true he feared The Dark Lord, the dreams that waited for him once he closed his eyes were far darker. In the cave, he’d re-lived over and over the humiliations and painful memories of his youth; the burning cheeks, the hot tears, the lonely days and the haunting nights. It’d grown in volume so quickly and so rapidly with the pain in his stomach that at one point he couldn’t tell which memory was real and which was fabricated by his agony. After that, the third and final symptom had been something like a godsend- at least the thirst was bearable- but in his dreams, there was no lesser pain to save him. 

   In one, he was being held under pitch black water, the bubbles tumbling out of his mouth in muted screams. The hand that gripped him pulled him up for a moment, and he saw someone- always someone different, but someone he  _ loved _ \- and then he was sent back down into the deep, choking and clutching desperately for help. This went on for what felt like forever.

   In another, he was young, no more than seven- and in his closet. There was no light, save for the moon shining ominously under the door. His lip trembled. He was hiding, but wasn’t quite sure what from. Every muscle was taut in an effort to stay still, because maybe if he heard what was out there before it came, he could scream in time for someone to save him. As he waited, voices came from the other side. At first, they were quiet, like the squeaking of a mouse. Then, they began to grow louder. Whomever- or  _ what _ ever, was on the other side of the door began to yell out and howl with such pain it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. More joined the torturous choir as it rose in volume- he began to tremble in fear-  until they were so loud he couldn’t even make out the individual voices anymore. It was just one loud, terrifying wail. The handle began to rattle, and young Regulus burst into tears, which then turned into screaming sobs. They had found him.

   There was only one nightmare that had to do with the Dark Lord directly, however. The details varied, but it was unforgettable in its horror.

   There he stood, facing Voldemort head on, with his snake-like nose and soul-piercing gaze. Regulus found his hands bound behind his back. Frantically, he began to struggle to break free, but as he did so, the Dark Lord began to laugh. It was a dark and foreboding sound that sent chills up his spine- but Regulus realized, as he opened his mouth to let out those terrible peals of laughter, that inside were long, needle-like teeth.  _ Oh God. _ He thought.  _ He’s going to eat me- and then feed me to his snake.  _ No one would ever know what happened to him. The gruesome being began to approach, and Regulus thrashed even more violently. There was no use- he’d only given himself rope burns.

   “Regulus… did you really think I wouldn’t reward you for this…?” One bone-like hand extended from Voldemort’s dark robes and dropped something familiar at his feet: a locket. 

   “No…please...” Dread washed over him. He never should have gotten himself into this mess.

   “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. I wouldn’t want to end such a prestigious bloodline- you’re the only Black left, after all.” The only one left…?  _ NO… _ And before he can even react to his realization, there they are before him, bloody and broken. His mother, pale face stiffly contorted in a lifeless scream of shock- father, blood covering most of his face and dripping down the front of his nicely pressed shirt- Sirius, his stupid, courageous older brother, with his handsome face cut up and smirking unseeing into the distance- and finally, Narcissa, beautiful hair matted with blood, legs at odd angles, her elegant neck splashed with dark beads of red. Even the blonde streak in her hair was stained with death.

  Sometimes, he screamed himself hoarse before he even woke.

 

   To say that Dumbledore took care of Regulus would be an understatement; he took care of  _ everything _ , and discreetly.

   Over the course of numerous conversations, they sorted out the basic frame of Regulus’ new life. Voldemort knew nothing of Regulus’ betrayal; he was to continue carrying out his Death Eater duties while secretly providing information to The Order of the Phoenix- the very Order he was pretending to hunt down. He and Dumbledore alone would be aware of Regulus’ true allegiance. 

   During his Hogwarts years the two had never been particularly close- not like Sirius and his gang, at least- but now that he owed the headmaster so much, he had no choice but to trust him. There was no one else with the means to hide him, and certainly not in plain sight. Nevertheless, the prospect of sneaking around to play both sides did not appeal to him in the least- it felt slimy and underhanded. Not only that, but it was perilously dangerous. His death, as well as his family’s, were all but guaranteed upon the discovery of his betrayal- as if he  _ needed _ more weight thrust upon his shoulders. He supposed that was the price of freedom. There was a price to be paid for everything, wasn’t there? The Dark Mark on his arm reminded him of that. But, it was his duty to- that was part of why he’d agreed to such a risky arrangement. As far as his parents were concerned, he was the only living heir left. Without him, the Black family had nothing, and he wasn’t about to abandon them like his brother had. Maybe Sirius was the kind of person that didn’t mind throwing his family away, but Regulus wasn’t. 

   He didn’t have anyone else. 

 

    Upon his return, Regulus expected a complete and utter apocalypse from Walburga. After all, he was still living under her roof, (whether he wanted to or not.) 

   What he was greeted with instead was almost worse.

   Kreacher was the first to receive him as he crossed the threshold, which proved a somewhat more emotional situation than he’d anticipated. The last time he saw him was in that nightmarish cavern. No doubt he was trapped at Grimmauld Place because of it. Regulus had the strongest urge to hug the house elf, despite the impropriety of it all, and he almost did- but thought better of it. Instead, get the worst of it over with.

   Mother could be devastating when she wanted to.

   He found her in the drawing room, gazing imperiously from one of the lavish sofas. Behind her, large windows gave an air of gloominess; the rain fell with almost petulant force. Perhaps it would have been cheerier if they made use of the elegantly carved fireplace, but it was never lit, not anymore. Kreacher had yet to unplug the chimney.

   Regulus took a deep breath as he approached, the musty smell of the place he called home all too familiar. Obediently, he sat across from her. Father, never one to take part in the discipline of his children unless it involved corporal punishment, didn’t deign Regulus’ return worthy enough a reason for his presence. He resided in his study, far enough away to remain unaffected by the inevitable din that would ensue. In the Black house, the patriarch didn’t sink so low as to participate in the raising of children or running the household- at least, not directly.

   “Regulus.”

   “Hello, mother.”

   “Am I? I haven’t seen you in such a long time, you would hardly call me your mother.” Her gaze wasn’t cold or unfeeling, but full of emotion; disappointment, concern- and quiet, unbridled fury. That was one of the worst parts, because if he looked too long, his resolve would begin to buckle under its weight. “What happened to my boy? I hardly recognize you anymore, Regulus. You were already frightfully skinny, but you’re nothing more than a skeleton standing before me. Your father and I were so pleased with your progress under the Dark Lord until that letter from  _ Albus Dumbledore _ , the  _ quack _ \- and now, you come and go as you please, without notice! Not only that, but you’ve begun skulking around keeping secrets, and dragging Kreacher into it along with you. Do you think me some kind of  _ fool _ ?” She had never been particularly  _ talented _ at showing emotion other than anger, but this reaction hurt nonetheless. After everything he’d been through, was he not allowed any grace? The effort it took just to hold composure was only growing with each day. 

    “I apologize, mother. I should have-” 

   “ _ Don’t DARE interrupt me, you ungrateful thing! I cannot BELIEVE your boorish behavior!”  _ Regulus flinched and swallowed the apology at his tongue; he ought to have known better than to walk into that one. “ _ WEEKS you’ve been gone without so much as a word, and you have the AUDACITY to APOLOGIZE?”  _ A horrible weight tugged at his adam’s apple- he licked his lips and pursed them tightly in an effort to banish it. Were mother to see his weakness, she’d send him to father to be straightened out, and that was far worse than her horrible screaming. That hadn’t happened for a number of years, but the fact that he was eighteen and still feared his parents bothered him nonetheless. He glanced to the Black family tree at their side. There were multiple black scars there where members had been blasted off- looking at it used to make him miss Sirius and his unwavering courage. Now, it only made him resent his brother for leaving. But, could he blame him? It wasn’t exactly easy living as mother’s emotional scapegoat. “ _ HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING?!”  _ Her hands were in such tight fists that they looked bone-white against her dress. _ “I KNOW YOU AND YOUR LITTLE FRIEND HAVE BEEN KEEPING SECRETS FROM ME! THIS IS THE HOUSE OF BLACK, AND WHILE YOU’RE LIVING IN IT, YOU WILL BEHAVE LIKE ONE- I DON’T EVER WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOU VISITING THAT GREAT POOF AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME? YOU DISRESPECT ME LIKE THIS ONE MORE TIME, AND I’LL MAKE YOU MOUNT THAT HOUSE ELF’S HEAD ON A PLAQUE WITH THE REST OF THEM!” _

__ All at once, it felt as if he’d been shot with an arrow. The color drained from his face, and his rigid posture became somehow even more stiff than before. He was gobsmacked that she could say that, not just because he cared about Kreacher, but because of how dutifully he’d served their family. It was an obviously empty threat seeing how very much she doted on the poor house elf, but that almost made it worse. It meant she was using him as leverage- intentionally. Picking up on those details had only gotten easier over the years, yet harder to ignore. Perhaps he’d reached his breaking point.

   She took a breath and began to say something else but Regulus interrupted her- with a scoff. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep with pained indignance. “I’d like to see you try.”

   Walburga Black’s eyes widened in shock. Her face first turned stark white, then very pink, and then a deep, scarlet red. For the first time, she used the voice he remembered hearing back when Sirius still goaded her on. It was quiet and full of unbridled rage. “ _ Excuse me…? _ ”

    “‘That house elf’ saved my bloody  _ life _ , mother. The least you should be is thankful.” It may have been minutes, it may have been seconds, but it felt like the silence that followed his words lasted forever. Despite his calm tone, Regulus’ breaths were coming in quick gasps. Yet somehow, he just kept on talking- he couldn’t stop himself. “As for the House of Black- I’m the only one left to carry it on. If something were to happen to me, what would you do?  _ Surely _ not go to Sirius?” 

   At first, it looked as if he’d struck her. Never in her life had Regulus’ mother heard such a backlash, and certainly not one so drastic as this, (never mind the fact that he was already an adult.) To mention Sirius,especially in such a critical context, was striking in its audacity. She was absolutely livid. “ _ I never want to hear that name come from your mouth again, young man-“ _

   “I’ll say what I  _ please. _ ” Regulus was perfectly polite in his tone, but whether it was out of spite or years of strict conditioning was indiscernible. Somehow, with each word that passed his lips, an almost eager strength reinforced the next. It was like catching the snitch, but ten times scarier and ten times as exhilarating.

   Astounded silence. Now  _ he _ was the one that looked so frighteningly strange. The stormy gray he inherited darkened to a hateful black in his eyes, and this startled his mother. She’d never seen that look on her son’s face before. 

   When he stood, she flinched.

   “I’ve done more for the Black name than you will ever  _ know _ , mother.” The Dark Mark on his arm weighed heavily at his side, a permanent reminder. “Therefore…” After all he’d done for them, why should he have to put up with any of it anymore? “I’m leaving. As the only remaining heir, I think I have the right, don’t you?” Saying those words was a much greater relief than he could ever have expected; freedom was an enormous adrenaline rush.

   Mother looked like she were being attacked- she clutched at the cushion beside her, as if for something to protect herself.Then, her thin-lipped mouth opened to emit an ungodly shriek, “ _ Kreacher!” _

   Immediately, Regulus’ confidence hurtled to the pit of his stomach. They had only to wait a few moments before the soft sound of shuffling feet came from the other room; watching Kreacher make his way to Walburga was like watching a man being led to the gallows; his eyes remained cast down, as they always had. At the sight of the poor thing, Regulus nearly broke. He too had been through so much for the ‘Black name,’ just as so many others had for the Dark Lord’s name. There seemed to be no end to his torment.

       “Kreacher is honored to serve Mistress Black… name it, and he will oblige...” 

   At the change in his expression, the fear in Walburga’s eyes hardened into malicious obsidian. She smiled. Once you pushed her past a certain point, there was something even worse than her guilt-invoking testimonies, and that was senseless cruelty. For some time Sirius took the brunt of it, but eventually he left, and his brother came to know his mother’s sadistic side all too well. “Kreacher, you wretched thing- bring me my wand.”

   Regulus’ eyes widened.

   “Yes, mistress Black- of course.”

   The house elf popped out of existence for what felt like an eternity, but returned only seconds later. He didn’t dare even glance at Regulus, but he had to be aware of Walburga’s intentions- when she requested her wand, nothing good ever came of it. She took the dark length of wood with something close to a smile.

  “Thank you, my dear.” He watched her hold it delicately- as if she weren’t about to brandish it with merciless grace. However, his mother didn’t turn to the house elf as he’d expected her to. “Run along now, Kreacher. Master Regulus and I have important matters to discuss.” Sometimes, she spoke to him more tenderly than she ever had her own children.

   He bowed, then took his leave.

   She turned to Regulus, who stood his ground. There was no alternative.

   “You wish to leave, Regulus?” His name sounded years younger in her mouth, as if he were still ten years old and asking for pudding. Somehow, he knew it was a trick question. 

   “Yes.” It came out quiet, but firm in its certainty. He did want to leave- he had for years, in fact. How long had she been needling at his ear, telling him to make something of himself? Only now did he have the courage and means to go through with it.

   Her almost-smile turned sour.

   “Very well. You’ve obviously already made your decision.” And now she stood too, although much shorter than her son. Nevertheless, the impact made him falter and take a step back; being near her fury was like flying too close to the sun. “I’ve already lost one son-  _ why shouldn’t I lose the other _ ?” Her stark-white hand darted out so quickly it barely even registered what she was doing- but it soon became all too clear.

   A bolt of light shot from the end of her wand, prompting Regulus to almost  _ fall _ out of the way. He looked up, a thin haze of smoke clearing, and let his jaw drop, all in one stunned breath. There, on the Black Family Tapestry that’d been resting behind him so inconspicuously before, was another black, charred scar. The smoldering mark lay right where his face had previously been so carefully woven into the tapestry, just adjacent to Sirius’ own black mark.

   His grief gripped him with icy claws.

   “You don’t have any more right to be on that tree than  _ Kreacher _ does!”

__ She’d done it. She’d really blasted him off- even as the last Black left to carry on the name.

   “ _ Do you hear me? NONE!” _

__ For once, her words fell upon deaf ears. Regulus was numb. He was numb with  _ everything _ \- the fear, the rejection, the dread- and nothing she said could knock him out of it.

   “You and that  _ maggot _ deserve each other, abandoning us like this-  _ how DARE you!” _

   That was when it really struck Regulus; there was nothing keeping him there, nothing forcing him to listen as she tore him up, again and again. His ties to Grimmauld Place were all but naught, seeing as he was of age, Kreacher was safe, and now he’d been blasted off of the tapestry. 

   He had nothing.

__ Regulus looked over to his mother, expression very different now, and seemed almost to gaze  _ through _ her. 

   Walburga petered off. This frightened her thoroughly.

   No words came from his mouth, for he had nothing to say. He just gave his mother a small, sad smile, turned around, and walked out.

   Regulus Black walked out of Grimmauld Place a free man.


	3. Chapter 3

   He’d requested Kreacher come with him, but the house elf had declined the offer- forcefully. His loyalty to Walburga was unbreakable, and as long as she was head of the House of Black, Grimmauld Place was as much Kreacher’s home as it was hers. Without him it would be lonely, but Regulus understood and respected Kreacher’s wishes. It just meant more time alone.

   He was to stay in a room above Moribund’s- just across the way from Borgin and Burke’s and twice as dodgy. Knockturn Alley wasn’t exactly a step up from Grimmauld Place, but it would do. It wasn’t like he’d look out of place, and he knew some of the regulars. Besides, with Diagon Alley so close by, he would at least be able to keep himself up to date and well stocked.

   They said their goodbyes at the door.

   Regulus glanced down the corridor, where a man with a hunch peered at them from his doorway. It didn’t really strike him as odd, just annoying; some very peculiar people could be found in Knockturn Alley. Nevertheless, he spoke in a hushed tone; you could never be too careful. “I can’t thank you enough, Kreacher.”

   The house elf bowed low, a gesture that he didn't award many, aside from Walburga. “It is Master Regulus who should be thanked, for risking Master’s most valuable life for Kreacher, and being so good to him. He will never be able to repay his debt to Master, even if he were to die a thousand deaths...”

   Maybe it was his weak mind or exhausted state, but this proved more touching than Regulus ever would have expected. There were a dozen more things he should have like to thank him for, but to keep praising the house elf would be inappropriate. 

      As a child, it hadn’t seemed so strange for his only friend to be a house elf, but as time went on, it became all too apparent. Well, that, and mother began to take every opportunity to point it out. Even ‘Cissy had frowned at it- what kind of respectable young wizard was close to a creature like that? Both of them had been subsequently punished for the fact, his young mind confused by such a cruel turn of events.

   To keep himself from getting emotional, he motioned for Kreacher to stand. “I don’t think a more devoted servant lives, Kreacher.” Again he felt the urge to hug him, but knew better. Besides, he didn’t do very well with physical contact. A nod of appreciation would have to suffice. “You are always welcome to join me here if my mother, er…” he cleared his throat, “..if she no longer requires your service.”

   Kreacher gave another low bow- his long ears trailed on the dusty floor. “Master Regulus is far too kind, too gracious..”

   It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him.

  
  


 

   Left alone, Regulus found that everything seemed terribly empty.

   There were no embellishments upon the furniture, no rug to keep your footsteps from echoing, no bed curtains, and almost no decoration to speak of, save for a particularly dingy looking mirror. All he was given were a writing desk, bed, and small bathroom. Or at least, an excuse for one. Without the Black family to support him, it was all he could afford.

   Regulus sat down on the lumpy mattress with an exasperated sigh.

   What had become of him?

   He looked at himself in the mirror just ahead. The long, dark hair that framed his thin face was tangled and in need of washing, and the bags under his eyes were alarmingly prominent against the pallid color of his face. In fact, the man in the mirror looked positively ill. Mother had been right- he was hardly recognizable compared to the boy he’d been a year before.

   Back then, everything was much simpler. Mother doted on him, The Dark Lord was their champion against muggles and mudbloods alike, Sirius was irrelevant, and graduation was only months away. He’d bore the Dark Mark proudly, like a noble symbol of his loyalty to the legacy he was to uphold. It all seemed so perfectly childish, looking back, like he’d been playing a part all along- like he was used.

  
  


 

   “Then I’m going to apply some deep carmine to my eyelid, ‘Bella- and I want to make sure I don’t get too overzealous, or I’ll look like some kind of nutter... Bella. Bella? Bella, are you even listening to me?”

   While Regulus’ cousins had always been close, there was no relationship in the Black family that didn’t have some kind of competitive streak. This was just one instance of such rivalry, in which thirteen year old Narcissa had so kindly offered to ‘teach’ her older sister how to ‘properly’ apply makeup to her face- in front of Walburga. That was a fatal mistake for her to make. Regulus’ mother was the head of the Black family, and as such, found it her business that each of the children represent it well. Thus began the onslaught of comments and criticisms having to do with Bellatrix’s appearance and eligibility, all thinly veiled by backhanded compliments. A perfect slaughter.

   Bellatrix, who remembered every second of this, was blatantly ignoring her younger sister, brush loaded with color and eyelid getting darker by the second. Seemingly satisfied with her handiwork, she put down the brush and smirked at her reflection. She was the eldest and most beautiful of the three Black sisters, but the most intimidating as well. Seventeen and about to take the world by storm, there wasn’t a pure blood out there that couldn’t recognize that regal profile in an instant. Well, any of proper breeding, at least. And everyone knew that- especially Narcissa. Always in her sister’s long shadow, she’d taken to conniving, sneaky little tactics to pull her down. Back then Regulus hadn’t seen it, but once he was old enough, it was impossible to miss. Jealousy flowed between them like a river of passive aggressive malice, and Bellatrix had always had the upper hand.

   The grin gracing her petite mouth was unsettling in its smugness. 

   “‘Cissy… do you think you could help me with my rouge? You’re just so much better at this than I am…”

   “Of course, here-“

   But ‘Bella’ didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, nor for her to ‘help’ with her rouge. Instead, with her long curly tresses whipping about her like black tendrils, she took a fistful of Narcissa’s lovely blonde hair and thrust her head down on the table, brushes and all. There was a yelp of surprise before her other hand snatched the lip stain from beside her. “You really ought to know better by now, ‘Cissa. Being so prideful doesn’t suit you- not when you have to cake your face in rubbish to get Lucius to so much as  _ look _ at you.”

   Her sister wore a frightened look of defiance. While it was obvious she wished to retaliate, this was a very delicate situation- one wrong move and she might face even further embarrassment. 

   Bellatrix smiled. “Oh, there’s no need to fret, little thing. I’m only offering some helpful advice to my favorite sister.” The hand with the rouge in it came closer to Narcissa’s face. “Here, I’ll help you.” With cruel force, she smeared bright red down the younger girl’s blushing cheeks and all across her face. Then, she pulled up her head so that they were both in the reflection together. Narcissa’s hair was no longer in its barrettes, and the red all over her face made her look like some kind of burn victim. It was painful to see her hold back tears. “See? Much better.” Once she was finished, her firm grip loosened, and she resumed observing herself in the mirror, as if nothing had happened.

   Narcissa, cheeks red and bottom lip quivering, held back a sob. The furious humiliation in her eyes was white hot with intensity, but she did nothing. What choice did she have? After all, she was the one who’d made a fool of the evil creature in the first place. Her shame reduced her to silence. She didn’t make a sound, only hurried out of the room before she broke into tears.

  A few moments passed before Bellatrix turned to Regulus, who’d been watching quietly from his spot on the bed. He was seven years old. “‘Cissy really ought to give more thought to what she says before she speaks. She’s probably gone for a cry again.” His cousin gave a bored sigh and glanced around the room, as if for something to do after exhausting her resources. Finally, her intimidating gaze came back to him. “Well? What are you looking at?” The innate need to impress pushed at his chest eagerly, but he stayed silent- that seemed the safest choice. After all, what could he say after what had just happened? He felt bad, and she wouldn’t like that. “How tiresome children are- either they can’t keep their ugly gobs shut, or they’re mute.”

   “I’m not mute…”

   She chuckled, pleased he’d chosen to talk back. “Not yet.” Her deep red nails glinted in the light as she took her wand from her hair, where it’d been stowed out of sight. Before he could even call out, she spoke a word he didn’t yet recognize, and gave a cackle of glee.

   He couldn’t speak for three weeks.

 

 

 

   It was pointless to think about the past. 

   Regulus’ hands fell, elbows resting on his knees. He was tired. Tired of it all, really. How very much he longed for some rest- one night of peaceful sleep, and he’d be more than grateful- but knew that was but a dream. Magically induced or not, his nightmares would persist, and he didn’t have the energy to go through the terror of it all over again.

   Instead, he slipped his hand inside his breast coat pocket. His fingers touched the smooth, cold surface of the locket.

   The horcrux.

   A shiver ran down his spine. He was carrying a piece of The Dark Lord with him, and no one but Kreacher and Dumbledore knew. If only he could find a way to destroy it instead- somehow, the thing only brought him pain when it crossed his mind. Such dark magic only could.

   Regulus stifled a yawn. It was getting late. In an effort to keep himself awake, he stood and flicked his wand in the direction of the hearth. It roared to life, orange flames flickering confidently against the darkness. He hoped its splendid warmth would ward off the shadows- and it did, for a while.

   Then, sleep enveloped him.

 

 

   Voices trailing down a corridor from a room at the end, light casting two shadows on the wall opposite, and laughter he swore he recognized; these were the components of Regulus’ dream. It almost seemed cheerful, at first.

   With curiosity, he ventured forward. The figures spoke animatedly, as if having a lively conversation in a pub. Then, they both laughed heartily.

   Regulus froze. He recognized that laugh- the braying, deep decibel of it- it was his brother.

  He walked more quickly, hoping to find some kind of solace in Sirius. However, the faster he walked, the longer the corridor seemed to become. With every step, he seemed further away than he’d been before.

   The conversation continued on, increasing his anxiety with every moment. Regulus broke into a run- for some reason he found himself desperate to reach the end. It was Sirius- he had to get to Sirius. There was something he needed to tell him, he just knew it. In fact, it was imperative. He got the feeling that if he didn’t tell this  _ thing _ to Sirius, something horrible would happen to him. 

   The corridor stretched even further.

   In one last attempt, he opened his mouth to speak. Perhaps, even if he couldn’t reach them, he could at least call out to warn them.  _ Be careful! _ He wanted to say.  _ You’re in terrible danger! _

   But no words came out.

   Regulus’ mouth stayed open in horror as one hand clutched at his throat. He couldn’t speak. He’d been silenced.

   Something stirred behind him, at which he spun around.

   Darkness was beginning to creep in, enveloping the corridor behind him. It whispered at him, shadows turning and twisting amongst themselves, like some kind of terrible sea creature. It was multiple, and yet one entity all at once. Disjointed arms and legs and what could only be heads flailed about clumsily, reaching out at him. And then, he recognized it. Somehow, he recognized it.

   It was the thing from the cave.

   Regulus might have screamed, were he able. How? The lake was the only place that thing could survive, and yet...It’d followed him. It had found him. And now… now it would take him, once and for all. It’d come to finish what it started.

   There was nowhere to run, and no one to call out to for help. 

   He was alone.

 

 

   “Regulus?”

   The fire had gone out long ago, leaving the space vacant for cold to flood in. The tips of his fingers had gone numb, and so had his nose. Immediately, he put a hand to his breast pocket- the locket still remained. An inward sigh of relief lifted some of the weight from his shoulders. Then, he remembered.

   Someone was calling his name from the doorway.

   With slower, groggier movements, Regulus sat up in his chair and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. It was still hard to tell whether he was in a dream or not. 

   Finally, his vision focused on the man addressing him. He spoke again.

   “What are you doing here?”

   All he could do was sit in shock.

   It was his brother’s friend- Remus Lupin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I know this fic doesn’t update often, but I want it to be perfect, (for Regulus...) so I’m taking a bit longer. It’s still coming along, though! Thank you for reading!

    Regulus staggered to his feet, limbs stiff. His first and only thought was what a mess he must’ve looked; after falling asleep so quickly the night before, there hadn’t even been time to unpack, and they both glanced at his luggage. He shifted uncomfortably, his quiet, polite tone subtly defensive at being caught in such a state of disarray. He didn’t explain himself, or even greet the other, for there was no need to. He wasn’t the one who had so rudely intruded. “Forgive me. Had you given me further notice in advance, I might’ve had time to make myself presentable for… guests.” His words were stiff with suppressed irritation. What in Hecate’s name did he  _ want? _

    Remus blinked, seemed to remember himself, and gave a sheepish look. “Right— sorry.” He scoffed, as if at his own silliness, “Dumbledore made a mistake. I’ll just leave you to—”

    “Wait, did you say…?” But Regulus stopped mid-thought. In only a moment, he’d quickly stridden over to the doorway and motioned Remus inside. As soon as the other obliged, Regulus abruptly shut the door behind him and locked it. Twice. Some paranoid part of him couldn’t help but mutter a few protective spells under his breath at first, but finally, he turned around to face the somewhat dumbfounded Lupin. Knockturn Alley was the last place you wanted to chance being overheard. “Did you say Dumbledore sent you here?”

    “ _Er…_ _”_ He squirmed at the question, as if he wished he hadn’t said anything in the first place.

    Reluctantly, Regulus realized his situation— why should Remus tell him anything? After all, he  _ was _ still a known follower of the Dark Lord, _ and _ his best friend’s annoying little brother. There was no use to such secrecy, however; clearly, the Headmaster thought himself just about the funniest old warlock on the planet. 

    “In that case, I don’t think you were mistaken.” He lit the fire once more, then carefully stowed his wand next to the precious horcrux in his pocket. While there hadn’t been time to prepare for company, the least he could do was make it comfortable. “...Unfortunately.” He discreetly clung to the warmth of the flames as he studied Remus from the mantle. There was no reason he ought to trust him either, now was there? Then again— it wasn’t exactly like Sirius’ only halfblood friend would be running around doing errands for the Dark Lord, especially not under Dumbledore’s nose. Either way, it would be a mistake to underestimate anyone.

    “He really didn’t say  _ anything _ about a roommate to you?” It was apparent that the Headmaster had misled him, thinking the idea of them bumping into each other amusing, no doubt. But Remus looked just about as tired as he did, which was only exaggerated by his shabby clothes and scarred face.

    A small part of Regulus took comfort in the fact- but a much larger part kicked himself for even feeling so. Considering Regulus’ position, it was his place to always present himself properly; he could almost hear his mother’s sharp whisper at his ear, telling him how pathetic it was that he even compared himself to such filth. That, and to criticize would be not only hypocritical, but cruel, and Regulus was anything  _ but _ impolite.

    Remus noticed his lingering gaze, and met it unblinkingly.

    This took him off guard. Remus, despite his bookish qualities, had always intimidated him most of his brothers’ friends; he was the only one of them willing to acknowledge his existence, even after the split. Regulus willed himself not to look away, and swallowed to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. The world was very different then, and so were they. “Not a word.” The flames cast a warm yellow glow on the room from behind him. It might’ve been comforting in any other situation. “He was, however, more than happy to obtain this room for me when I was in need of one.” Something close to a smile hinted at his lips. Perhaps he was amused. He didn’t quite know himself. “I’m confident you won’t find another wizard in Knockturn Alley who can say that.”

    “No one but me, apparently.” He put his ragged suitcase down again with a sigh and shook his head. “This is like a bad scene from The Parent Trap.”

    “The what?”

    Remus paused. “Hm? Oh, nothing. Just a, uh ...book.”

    The reference, completely lost on him, was disregarded. “In any case, it would’ve done the Headmaster well to communicate these sorts of things beforehand.” It was more like a scene from Shakespeare, anyhow. Regulus tucked a dark lock of hair behind his ear and avoided his own tired gaze in the mirror. “‘Roommate’ isn’t usually a word I like to associate myself with, given the choice.” It implied a certain sense of… poverty. Besides— sending such a man to be his roommate was a pretty significant statement on Dumbledore’s part. The message was clear; if you’re going to be an agent of The Order, you must also learn to work with  _ all _ kinds of people. 

    Remus’ brow furrowed, almost defensively. “If you’d rather have your own room, I’m sure you could get an affordable one somewhere else.”

    Regulus glanced up, entirely non-confrontational. “No, I couldn’t.” He hinted at his currently poor state of affairs, but that was all; no respectable Black wished to be known as an outcast.

    The other’s hazel gaze softened slightly,  and he cleared his throat in apology. Just as Regulus had expected, Lupin was far too shy to pry, no matter how curious the implication. “Right. Well…” They still had not reached an agreement.

    The fire crackled and popped in the moment of silence that followed.

     Finally, the younger of the two broke it. “I’ll let you… unpack.” The thought of someone like Remus touching his things and possibly  _ snooping _ occurred to Regulus, but he disregarded it. There were other, far more important things to worry about than his own frivolous anxieties.  “Take whatever wardrobe space you require.”

    His brother’s friend looked surprised—gobsmacked, in fact. “‘Sorry?”

    Had he even a mite less control of his own outbursts, he might’ve sighed in exasperation. Instead, he spoke plainly, (as much as it pained him.) “We’ll… share. ”

    Remus, still a bit in shock, nodded. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself.

    Neither of them did.

   Regulus, entirely uncomfortable with such an odd and completely improper arrangement, found himself eager to escape. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

    And without waiting for an answer, he left.

    It was only the beginning.


	5. Chapter 5

    To be quite frank, Regulus didn’t have the time to be bothered by the idea of rooming with Remus Lupin. At least, not immediately. There were still Kreacher and his family to think about, not to mention the Dark Lord... and  _ Dumbledore _ — well, he had one or two things he very much wanted to  _ say  _ to that old man. Just because he owed the Headmaster a debt certainly didn’t mean that his life was open to meddling. People that meddled ended up killed, these days.

    He sipped his tea introspectively. The man sitting (or sleeping) at the bar next to him hiccupped into his own sick.

    Regulus’ nose wrinkled. 

    Why on earth Lucius insisted they meet in a hovel like this was perplexing. Hastily, he moved to a booth that didn’t reek of dragon whiskey and mutton-flavored vomit.

    There were an array of questions he had for his fellow Deatheater, but knew that that made little difference. As respected as the Black family was, the disgrace of his brother managed to sully that reputation, even among purebloods. He’d put a few years worth of work into their redemption, but it was nowhere near where their name had been twenty years prior. Because of this, Regulus had also had to contend with the judgement of his peers. In fact, that was what The Dark Lord had first spoken to him about. 

 

    Everything looked the same— everything looked the same except for those cold, marble floors. Like bone. But there was something  _ wrong _ . He knew it, he could  _ tell _ that  _ there was something wrong with that shade of white.  _ Then, it came like a flash.

    The floors were stained with blood.

 

    “Now.”

    Regulus, young and nervous and  _ foolish _ —  _ so _ foolish — stood obediently. His robes, darkly colored and heavily detailed, might’ve resembled a muggle priest’s. And yet, he was too young to be anything of the sort. He was only a couple years into his education, and the scar his brother’s departure had left on his mind was still fresh enough to sting. 

    And now, his presence had been requested by the wizard he’d been admiring for the majority of his youth; the most dangerous man alive, or dead. But all too soon, he’d discover that He Who Must Not Be Named was  _ neither _ .

    Regulus’ hands trembled.

    He strode through the enormous, (intimidating) doors to the manor’s large library. The way they opened, it felt as if he were attending some kind of formal event, and waiting to be announced. Only, there were no introductions needed. There, before him, in the center of the room, stood a table and two chairs. The one nearest to him, facing the opposite direction, was taken. There was no way to see the occupant’s face from his position— but there was no need. 

    Everyone knew who he was.

    The expression on Regulus’ face turned from stone to one of awe and… something akin to horror. It was  _ Him _ .

    “Please, Regulus….”

    The boy startled, and gave a mute gasp to hear his own name on the silken tongue of Lord Voldemort himself.

    “Have a seat. You are my guest…”

    He could only will himself not to let his voice waver. “Yes, my lord.” Quiet and obedient, he did as he was told. Even as the Dark Lord came into full view, he didn’t flinch again— but the image had already been seared into his mind forever.

    His smile— his smile was eerie… once very handsome possibly, at one time, but now turned sour by the wretched snarl of ambition in his eyes. It grew wider once they were seated across from each other.

    “You are just as I expected.”

    Regulus swallowed.

    “Distinguished… elegant…  polite….” They were compliments, he knew, but they sounded like they were dripping with judgement. “All products of your thoroughbred bloodline.” He grinned at Regulus. “I hear you didn’t cause so much trouble as your brother. Now, you’re risking everything you believe in for the cause and still…. Still your mother and father treat you like a child.”

  There was nothing he could think of to say. It was true.

 “ _ I _ will not treat you as such.”

  Regulus’ expression didn’t change.

“You will be given a seat at our table; but first, I have a request…” He paused for the young Black to give his reply, as if he had a say in the matter.

    As if he were saying his part in a courtroom, he spoke formally and respectfully. “Thank you, my Lord. I am grateful and will not let you down.” The candle light flickered against the walls in the silence that followed.

  He was foolish…  _ so foolish… _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus’ meeting with Lucius

    “Did you think that we wouldn’t find out?”

    Lucius was smug. He’d always looked forward to the fall of the Black name. Walburga used to say it was because his family was next in line for the crown, and Regulus knew it was true. The Malfoys were a ruthlessly ambitious sort. 

    His mother had stopped saying that when her niece Narcissa married in.

   Like a bolt of lightning, the Horcrux burned icy cold in his breast pocket. Could he mean that…? The locket? But in the dim, dingy light of the pub, Regulus stayed calm. Not only had he learned to stay calm and collected in difficult situations  _ long  _ ago, he’d also learned how to respond to his cousin’s threats. There was no conceivable way for Lucius Malloy to have found out his trick, nor did he expect him to know what game he was playing now. He just needed to communicate his doubt. “Oh? Have I misjudged you, Lucius— because I know the Dark Lord would loathe for me to insult his most valued subject.”

    The older man stiffened. His pale hair and face made him look like a ghost amongst the dark decor. A simpering grimace twisted his features. “Shut up, you  _ child _ .” Then, Lucius snatched one of Regulus’ hands from across the table, and jerked him closer. His grip was almost painful.

    The young Black regarded him cautiously, as one does a snake coiled around their wrist. He was so close to it… to the piece of evil hiding in his pocket. Just a breath away from finding out his secret.

    “The Dark Lord loathes for pitiful, weak little boys to expect he won’t  _ skin them alive _ for  _ treason. _ ” He let go abruptly, sitting back with ease. He even smiled. “I’m just here to hear your excuses before he does, Regulus— not to listen to you act like a spoiled  _ brat _ .” 

    Straightening his shirt and coat, Regulus let out a slow breath. He took a moment to sort out his appearance— not just because he felt the need to but because it was an imposition on Lucius to make him wait— and looked back at him. He didn’t smile. “Do tell me, cousin, what crime have I committed to mark me guilty of treason?” Really, he was relieved. If the real truth had been found out, he would be explaining himself through a Cruciatus curse already.

    Lucius stifled an amused chuckle with a scoff. “Albus Dumbledore. There isn’t a witch or wizard this side of the equator that hasn’t heard of your little  _ holiday _ at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord is certainly aware.”

    Regulus’ heart pounded loudly in his ears, but he held composure. There was already a failsafe in place for this exact situation. “Then he’ll be pleased when I speak to him personally, won’t he?”

    “Oh, he most assuredly will.”


End file.
